


Installing Pop-Up Blocker

by whosyourmaster



Series: Understanding Deviancy [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Artist Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Backstory, Confused Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Dirty Talk, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Idiots in Love, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Protective Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Teasing, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-09 19:03:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15274233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whosyourmaster/pseuds/whosyourmaster
Summary: Confused by his emotions, Connor seeks out help to understand why he becomes so overwhelmed so quickly. The healing process is never quick but that doesn't mean it can't be pleasurable.





	Installing Pop-Up Blocker

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be a short smut fic... what happened?

It took all of 11 seconds for Connor to search the depths of the world’s servers to verbally describe deviancy. Great author’s dedicated millions of words to the pulling in the pit of a belly, to the invisible weight pressing spines to the floor, to the drunk like headedness that forced eyes to become unfocused. Minutes upon hours upon years upon centuries of music, composed and recomposed endlessly, to the quiet strength of letting sorrow be, to the racing of hearts, to the ache in cheeks held in a grin to long. A rainbow of colors swiped, splashed, stippled, smudged, smeared, stripped and striped across canvases conveying the collapse of the brow upon lost loves, to the fire at fingertips caressing freshly uncovered skin. Human existence, boiled to its’ base form, was a species-wide scramble to grasp the ethereal pulls of ‘emotions’. Some 41,038 years, 21569572800 minutes, an ever running clock on an animals race to understanding. A finish line on the horizon yet never closer. It took all of 11 seconds to cram Connor’s processors with every platitude ever conceived. All of 11 seconds for him to realize that the words, the music, the art was all barren for him. Nothing.

Four pop-ups across his vision came in second 12.

  
Stress ^^^ 37%  
Processor Temperature ^^^ 65°C  
Urgent task:  
~~Complete report of~~ successful ~~mission~~  
~~Send report to Captain Fowler~~  
~~Order groceries for Lt. Anderson and Sumo~~  
Optional task:  
~~Call Markus~~  
~~Research human expression of emotion~~  
Understand deviancy

The empty translucent box, tucked away in his right periphery felt like a taunt; the byproducts of a twisted cyberlife coder. His nails caught slightly, along with the ridges of keys along the keyboard, as he curled his hands into themselves. The synthetic flesh recovering the white plastic of his palm.

Nothing. A wealth of data at his fingertips and there was nothing that answered his questions. Why did he seem to overheat at random intervals? When Hank didn’t respond in a predicted way, why did his stress level rise? Why did seeing Markus playing the piano make his vision go hazy? Why did all the diagnostics that he did always came back with nothing to report?

This month alone he had counted five times that he felt the compulsion to shove his face into Sumo’s side. Seven times that he simply sat in Hank’s house, alone in the dark. Eight times that this interior pressure built up that it left him in a fit of laughter and tears. Each incident was the result of seemingly nothing; a movie character’s father dying, a few notes of music from one of Hank’s record that is has plan white as a cover, the sunrise bouncing off Markus’ heterochromatic eyes, an elderly couple walking down the street, watching the children of Jericho run in the church's courtyard, an ad for an animal charity. Even replaying the stored memories of such moments left him feeling like wires in his neck were loose, like electricity was leaking out from rubber casing.

Stress ^ 38%  
Processor Temperature ^ 67°C

“Alright. That shit is done, let’s go... everything okay, son?” Hank asked, leaning over his stack of files. Even after the months of working together, Hank managed to retain his ‘organized chaos’ among his desk, even while butted up against Connor’s practical barren one. Stubborn down to every cell, the only thing to really change was the removal of some anti-droid paraphernalia and the makeshift divider of a bulletin board he had when Connor first entered the DPD. Still, a sharp contrast of piled papers, personalized baubles, and mealtime stains when beside his partner’s spotless white desk, which held only three photos (two of Sumo and Hank and one of Jericho) and a cactus (gifted by an office ‘secret Santa’ with a fingerprint match to Gavin).

“I am unsure Lieutenant.” He responded matter of fact. He turned his head, feeling a twinge that started up again hours ago at the base of his neck. Possible wires that tangled though not a single diagnostic had yet reported such a problem.

“Well, what are you doing?” Hank pressed raising his right brow, a habit Connor identified as Hank trying to decide whether the current issue was tedious or not.

“I was finished with work so decided to research emotions.”

Hank's left brow joined the right as he leaned back into his roller chair. The creaking of plastics as he rubbed a hand across his temple.

“And what did this research tell you? Actually better fucking question; why?”

“I am trying to understand deviancy.” Connor stonily replied, just watching Hanks skin wrinkle as he rubbed his forehead left his processor hot like it was trying to fulfill an objective that didn’t exist. His nails began to dig ever so slightly into his synthetic skin.

  
Stress ^ 39%  
Processor Temperature ^ 69°C

“Connor, you’re not still fixating on your old mission programming are you?” Hank was tired, his words were 10% slower than normal for the end of the day, the most probable reason being he had stayed up for the game last night. Yet that probably left an open end, was Hank tired because of him?

  
Stress ^ 42%

“No.” He said, a little too loud. “I simply am trying to understand what I am going through. It continues to elude me. I have gone through all the material I could find yet it still does not provide insight into these...”

Feelings? Emotions? Scrambled coding? Fraying wires? Miss fired electricity?

“Ah hell kid, that is something we are all trying to do.” His partner said, leaning his head against his fist against the arm of the chair. Why did Hank seem so annoyed? He asked Connor what he was doing yet seemed upset by him answering. “It’s one of the cornerstones of being human.”

Over his tired face, popped up a dialogue box.  
The weight of the world on my shoulders.  
A throwaway line used by hundreds of authors, dozens of musicians and uttered to near meaninglessness. What was the point of conveying emotion if all the sayings meant nothing in the end? The complete pointlessness of it all made him grip his fists tighter.

“Something that I have been made of aware of since the moment I found you at Jimmy’s Bar,” Connor said, his jaw tensing up, the inside of his cheek pinched between molars.

Hank just sighed, pushed the hair out of his eyes, “Right kid, we should probably head home. Need to walk Sumo before it rains.” Hank grumbled, snatching up his leather jacket off the back of his chair. Connor turned off both their monitors, restacking Hank’s scattered files. Headed for the door, Hank made a pit stop to knock Gavin’s feet off his desk. A hardy “Fuck you!” following them out of the bullpen.

They climbed into the rusted impala silently, Hank even seemed to silence his groans as he sank into the beaten down seat. “Alright, we gotta stop at the store on the way home?” clicking in his seat belt as he asked.

“No, there should be a food delivery in about an hour,” Connor replied, knocking a discarded soda cup on the floor in the passenger compartment. It felt cramped. He felt cramped. His palms felt hot and numb in his lap and the air in the car felt stale. A solid mass felt like it was forming out of nothing in his belly and the electricity in his neck started to spread down to his shoulders. As he tried to scan the rolling clouds, transparent boxes popped into existence.

  
Urgent task:  
Talk with Markus  
Optional task:  
Understand deviancy

“Could you drop me off at Jericho?” Connor asked, looking down at the slowly fading half moons embedded in his palms.

“Yeah... sure, of course, son,” Hank said turning over his engine which popped and gurgled into life. Clouds were starting to roll in, bringing with it humid rains that matted Sumo’s fur and gave Hank back sweat stains. The streets were filled with people, humans, and androids, heading from point A to B. People ducking in and out of stores, always keeping on eye on the sky.

The music blared through the speakers rattling Connors biocomponents as they drove. Settling back, Hank beat his fingers, to the bass, along the steering wheel. Firmly keeping his eyes on the road, Connor tried to focus all his processing power on the Knights of the Black  
Death. Siphoning power from his optical units, ceasing his synthetic breathing and turning up the audio processor; the loud chaos of music washing away, replacing, the pressure behind his eyes and neck. Slowly he let the numb feeling come over him once again. The city rolled by in blurs, mostly blues and grays of the rising storm, cut through by sharp rays of the golden evening sun.

15 minutes 47 seconds is what it took to pull up to Jericho, an above average timestamp due to Hanks perpetual need to go 15 above the speed limit. Luckily most of the Jericho residents that populated the surrounding area recognized the rusted out impala and gave it a wide berth, keeping kids off the street. As summer rolled in, great green vines resumed their consumption of the church facade. It was one of the few places in Detroit that you could still hear wild birds, a flock of them taking up residence in the steeple.

Turning down the music, Hank turned and gave Connor a tired smile. With a nod, he popped open the door and climbed out of the car. “You going to be okay kid?” Hank asked through the rolled down window.

“Yes, of course, just visiting with Markus.”

“Mmm, well tell ‘the leader’ that you need to be a work early tomorrow”

Connor nodded “I know. I will tell him.”

A deep set wrinkle settled between Hank’s eyes. He was upset, why? “Hey, Conner, call me if you need anything-- you know to pick you up or some shit.”

“Okay, Hank,” Connor said with a small smile and a gentle wave, something the Lieutenant deemed acceptable enough to drop the issue, roll up the window and drive off.

Dirt crunched under his feet as Connor headed towards the church, the odd android waving from their yards of the surrounding homes. Most were condemned, but a quick and diligent volunteer project by the members managed to make them stable enough for an android, providing homes for their growing people. Waking through the perpetual open iron gates, Connor chuckled as he dodged and sidestepped members of what appeared to be an intense game of tag. Energetic movement caught his attention off to the right side, cross the yard in the garden was North. Dirt smudged across her jeans and top, she was holding up a spade waving it through the air in greeting.

Inside the nave, he weaved around the many groups of people congregating around the random furniture, games, and televisions they had spread out around subdivided spaces. Most had curtains pulled back offering as an open door to all to come and visit with their ‘neighbors’, though some were tightly closed as people charged or worked on repairs. Heading all the way back, up onto the elevated Chancel he passed through the set of curtains that was meant to separate the main parishioners from the holy men’s private chapels and rooms. He passed by the open doors of the repair supply room, being restocked, the makeshift offices for Jericho’s leadership and a small stash of an armory, Norths vocal concerns of possible violent retaliation making it feel like a hopefully unneeded yet not improbable safety precaution.

“Connor,” Simon rounded the corner, weighted down in cleaned laundry “Hey, how are you doing?”

Simon always has warm smiles to offer, he seems so comfortable in faded university sweaters and fuzzy slippers. He always seems comfortable. After a handful of tension meetings, ones filled with plenty of apologies and mediated discussion, overlooked by Markus, between Connor and Jericho group, Simon’s smile never seemed to fade. In private and public the soft corner of his pale lips always tracked upwards. It did not seem to matter if he was in the middle of telling a humorous story to a resident or fielding questions from an intrusive ‘citizen journalist’. Even when Connor’s scans indicated elevated stress levels, Simons happy grin only seemed to grow. How? Why?

  
Stress ^ 51%

“I am not sure,” Connor replied sticking his hands into his jean pocket, finding his quarter.

“Oh,” Simon’s smile dropped about 4% around the corners. His honesty, again, bringing discomfort. “Well... Markus is up in his studio.” Simon quickly shifted the laundry basket around opening up room for Connor to pass on down the hall he just came from.

“Thank you, Simon.”

“No problem, hey could you remind him to recharge sometime tonight. We have a meeting with the Governor and some state senators tomorrow. He needs to be running at optimal capacity.”

  
Urgent task:  
Talk with Markus  
Make sure Markus charges  
Optional task:  
Understand deviancy

  
“I have added it to my task list,” Connor said as the new dialogue box popped up in his left periphery.

“Thank you, Connor. Have a good evening. Try and charge some too.” Simon waved, turning down the hall.

At the end of the hallway, tucked behind a door were the stairs up to the attic and bell tower. The stair, those that didn’t have to be replaced due to rot, creaked under his polished shoes. Bent forward to avoid the lowered beams of the triangular roof, he headed toward the brighten western walls. Illuminated by a great rosette stained glass window that bounced sun warmed reds, blues, and purples along the floors, walls, and piano. Canvases were stacked up along the tighter corners of the sloping ceiling, most appearing to be done even though the artist claimed otherwise. Markus has currently settled behind a splatter covered aisle, eyes closed as he dragged his brush across a canvas’ surface.

“You should have told me you were coming,” He said with a warm smile, never opening his eyes, “I would have demanded you bring Sumo with you.” His voice soothing all in good humor.

“Some would think you care more to see Hanks dog than me.” Connor snarked back, a smile finally pulling at his lips. The wires in his neck calming.

“Well, he is the best pillow when charging,” Markus replied. “You are a very close second though.”

  
Stress v 34%

“I missed you.” He continued as Connor bent down quickly and left a small kiss to his temple, walking behind Markus. Connor watched him blindly paint, pulling out his quarter and rolling his thumb over the founding fathers bumped face. Every painting in the studio had been a blind masterpiece, something Markus could conceive of and create seemingly from just ‘thinking about his emotions’. Connor’s eyes trailed along the path of the brush, a dozen little pop-ups on paint composition dry time, color and stroke references to the Manfriend School of Neo-Symbolist movement, even trapped dust origins began to clutter his vision, making the loose brush strokes even harder to decipher an image from. Leaning to the side, Connor began rolling the cold coin across his knuckles as he simple took in what he saw.

Markus never had a problem conveying emotions, he thrived in it in fact. His existence alone was their people’s best defense against anti-droid claims of mindless machinery. A being who could not only feel but who could convey it so succinctly that if a Turing Test was ever created for art than surely Markus would have blasted through its parameters. The LED, if left, would have been a redundancy as his mood was always on show, yet controlled.  
Wearing your heart on your sleeve  
-popped up only to be immediately deleted. Another empty platitude needing to be deleted from his hard drive. It felt even more hollow when it’s dialogue box obscured his view of Markus’ sloped relaxed shoulders.

“Did you hear,” Markus asked, eyes closed, slowly raising his tone as to not startle Connor. “The Jerry’s have a new dog.” Good humor laced through the simple statement.

“Did they now?” Connor asked knowing by the tone alone that there was more the story.

“Oh yes, the three of them claim to have found her tied off in the backyard of an abandoned home in LaSalle Park.” Connor frowned.

  
Stress ^^^ 48%

  
“Was she okay?” He asked, preparing for the worst. Markus titled his head like he could hear the rise in Connor’s stress level.

“Oh yes, she has been making an amazing recovery, eating everything those three put in front of her.” Then there was the smile again. “She has even been responding to her new name. Want to take a guess?”

“Let me think, did they name her Jerry?”

“Alice, actually.” Connor let out a humorous huff at the mirth clear on Makus’ face. Through it all he had not ceased painting, constantly cleaning brushes, mixing pigments and applying to the canvas with his eyelids firmly clamped shut.

“What are you painting?” Connor asked, pushing up from his leaning spot to stand directly over Markus’ shoulder. He gently dragged his fingers across Markus collarbone, feeling the soft fabric wrinkle under his touch. The canvas he was working on had darkened edges yet brilliant blue glow. In the center were the markings of, what Connor guessed was, a base sketch for two sets of hands. Created in seemingly random swipes of every color in the rainbow, yet from away became a set pair of blue and red hands. Upon the blue palms was the white-hot looking wax, dripping down from a candle held up by the red hands.

“Reparations in place of amnesty” Markus replied, applying bright swaths of white.

“Is that the subject of your speech tomorrow?” Markus nodded with a hummed affirmatively.

“Are you ready?” Connor asked, though he already knew the answer, Markus smiled.

“Aren't I always,” Sarcasm, Markus always wore sarcasm well. “Yes, everything is set to go. North saw my speech and offered up her edits, Simon helped tone down some of the more... aggressive notes and Josh is currently settling the politicians in. Hopefully, his presence will prepare them for the subject at hand.” It was a rather cunning plan, even if Josh confided quietly his hatred for being a paid yes man.

“Is Josh excited to finally reuse his hospitality programming?” Markus let out a loud snort, “We all have our skills we can fall back on when needed. Though I think the irony of your question is lost on you, Mr. Detective.” Sarcasm, good he could deal with that.

  
Stress v 40%

“Speaking of, your PL600 housekeeper android wants you to recharge tonight.” With a stutter, Markus froze, breaking up what would have been a beautiful brush stroke. Eyes opening suddenly, Markus was tense, shoulder tight, he was upset. Why?

  
Stress ^^^ 60%

  
Connor took a step back, shoving his hands back into his pockets. Markus' eyes bounced around as he thought over something, before closing his eyes and continued to paint.

“How do you manage to do that?” Connor finally asked, barely above a whisper, afraid of making Markus more upset. Instead, Markus opened up his green eye, looking over his shoulder with a warm smile. “I’ve told you before, ” He said with good humor “Carl would have me simply close my eyes and focus on an emotional theme, what I produce is always a surprise.”

Connor felt the wires in his neck again, the electricity tickling his throat. His nails began to bite into his palms again. “I mean--” An electric pop sliced into his words “how do you focus on the emotions? How do you--” Feel?

Markus opened both eyes, his brows creasing, setting in a slight wrinkle. Placing his brush down he turned his body around to face Connor. The light hitting his back, casting a shadow over his features.

“What do you mean, love?” It was a delicate question, but it struck Connor like a slap. Static started crackling around his Therum pump. His processor slowed to provide response options, it was only 3 seconds but it was enough for Markus to hone in on. His right eye twitched ever so slightly if he had the LED it surely would have flared yellow in concern.

“I’ve been trying to understand Deviance and I-- I researched emotions.” Markus simply nodded, his face holding simple passivity but his eyes were pinning. “That is a lot of data.” he simply stated.

“All of it was useless.”

“Was it?”

“Completely.” Connor gritted out, his arms tightening into his core, his shoulders rising as he hunched in smaller. In the corner, he noticed a small painting. About the size of a magazine, it was simple, clean, two hands intertwined at the pinkies, flesh slightly peeled back to reveal luminous white plastic at the point of contact. It was new.

“All that data, was it all useless?”

“It was,” Connor affirmed, staring at that tiny painting.

“Why?”

“It just was,” Connor said, knowing he sounded petulant. He didn’t know why. That was the point. His processor was lagging. Why did he have to explain something if the whole point of bringing it up was the fact that he didn’t understand? The electric shorting traveled down his arms, tickling his fingertips shoved into his pockets.

“How did it make you feel?”

“Nothing. Now I just have annoying pop-ups with pointless sayings.”

Markus smiled at that. “So it made you annoyed.”

“Yes... no- maybe,” Connor said, curling in tighter to himself, bumping the back of his head against the sloping ceiling.

“You don’t know?”

“I don’t know!” Connor snapped, he dropped to the floor, crouching down, wrapping his arms around his knees and hiding his head. The electric pops crackled in his neck, traveling to his audio processors, creating white noise in the silence. His Therum pump aches and his gut components cramped in their squished position. Outside the storm started to rumble. Everything was becoming too loud, too bright, too much pressure. Too much. 245 seconds passed in pregnant silence.

“C’mon, we should lay down.” Markus voice, clean and clear, broke through the static. Connor stayed curled in on himself, a hand came up and rubbed along his hair, nails gently massaging the base of his neck. When he didn’t raise his head, that hand came down, tickling his ear, and cupping just under his jaw. Markus smiled down, his brows tilted down as if sad though. “C’mon.” It was all he had to say, holding out a hand for Connor to stand up with.

He walked Connor towards the couch pressed against the opposite wall, leaving him standing as he organized the space. Storing away his brushes and palette, he pulled out from his back pocket a thoroughly coated rag to rub the excess paint off his hands on to as he crossed the room. Connor watched as Markus picked up his discarded coat off the dated, floral and hole filled couch. Once it was folded, he placed it onto a large side table, beside an enormous clear vase filled to the brim with discarded LEDs. Offerings from his grateful people and too symbolic for the artist to simply pitch aside. Markus pulled out the trundle from within the couch, rearranging the cushions into a headboard. Content with their placement he headed to the intricately carved storage bench, pushed up under the window, he opened it up and pulled out as many blankets that his arms could encompass.

Within minutes Markus had created a nest of blankets. Using thicker rolled up ones to create makeshift bumpers around the edges of the mattress, the thinner ones lining the inside along with a half dozen pillows and an old stuffed animal dog.

“Alright, come on, off with the shoes and jacket.” He mildly commanded as he headed down the stairs to lock the door. On autopilot Connor took off his jacket, placing it atop Markus’, and bending down to unlace his shoes, tucking them under the metal frame of the trundle. He sat down on the edge, picking up the stuffed dog, rubbing the corduroy ear through his fingers.

From this angle, Markus looked powerful. Stood at relaxed attention, looking down over his broad chest at Connor. He was eye level to Markus’ stomach, covered in a soft worn t-shirt, so inviting to just lean his head against. The storm clouds outside parted temporarily, a strong beam of sun blazing through the stained glass, painting Markus’ warm skin in fire reds and honey yellows. “You going to make room love?” He chuckled, the lights bouncing off his heterochromatic eyes.

Connor shifted inwards on the mattress, laid down among the pillows, propping his shoulder up slightly, loosening his tie. With a warm smile, Markus crawled up from the foot of the bed and laid at Connor’s side, placing his head on his shoulder. With deft fingers, he hooked the tie and pulled it clean off, draping on the armrest of the couch. His buzzed haircut tickled under Connor's ear as his synthetic breathing made Markus sway.

“Why did you do this?” Connor asked looking at the nest he was centered in.

“You needed to be made to feel safe. Comforted. You are clearly stressed.” Markus stated, bringing one arm over Connor’s waist. That hand curled around his right wrist and rub circles along the vein. “You were becoming frustrated, and clearly appeared to be overwhelmed by our topic. You’ve been all afternoon, haven’t you?”

Connor’s jaw tensed as he felt what he would describe as a hiccup in his therium pump. “How did you...” the question dying on his lips as Markus placed a kiss over his pump.

“You forget I was... am a health care android. I was designed to be a companion who can identify physical, mental and emotional distress.” Connor dropped his head down on to the pillows below and clamped his eyes shut, squeezing them a tight as possible. He refused to respond, but Markus didn’t need him to. “You love, have always been... reserved with your emotions but I noticed, around last October, that you can become overwhelmed...” October 11th, It was a date burned into Connor’s processors. A date he was happy if it never came again.

He knew the significance of October 11th, a data point flagged in his processors to be prepared for. He wasn’t though, not really. He rose from recharging early to prepare. He walked and feed Sumo, collected Hank’s favorite movies to watch, double checked that he had all the supplies listed on the major of emotional support sites. He took extra time to cook breakfast, Hank’s favorites of Bacon filled pancakes and sunny-side up eggs. It was out and ready for consumption 2 minutes before Hank’s average wake up time. It was cold by the time Connor went to check on Hank, 45 minutes later. Hank had not so much slept in as he had just decided to not leave his bed. Lights off Connor could still scan the scattered bottles of beers and knocked over whiskey that most certainly was not there the previous night.

Red-faced and inebriated, Hank spent the day oscillating between sleeping, telling humorous stories to a picture of his son, drunkenly screaming at the ceiling and crying over Connor’s lap. His moods and actions were quick and violent, much like when Connor first met him. Beating fists against the headboard would turn into gentle caress against the picture frame turned into clutching claws against Connor’s suit jacket. Connor just sat in silence. He watched. He provided hugs when they were wanted and did not fight back when he was shoved away. When Hank slept he cleaned up the bottles and stashed away all the guns, being sure to separate all the bullets and keeping them on his person.

The Lieutenant never asked about the gun, which Connor knew was progressing. Yet he felt hollow as he tried to be with Hank. In a fit of rage, he had yelled ‘You will never understand. You could never understand how this feels.’ and Connor had feared he was right. Connor feared he never would understand. When Hank fell asleep for the final time that day. Connor found himself walking to Jericho.

“You came all the way here at 4 in the morning and just wanted to sit in the corner. In silence. Your vitals alerted to high levels of stress yet you wouldn’t let me come near or even speak.” Markus explained, a deep ache in his voice, like the memory proved painful. He felt pain.

Connor felt every processor in his body jolt. His sensors started to tingle and the ache in his neck grew exponentially. White static started to intersperse into the inky blackness behind his synthetic eyelids.

  
Stress ^ 68%  
Processor Temperature ^ 69°C

  
“You are burning up,” Markus stated, gliding two fingers under the top button of his shirt, popping it open. “Come on let’s take this off.”

Leaning on his elbow, Markus pulled the tails of his shirt out from his jeans. Sitting forward Connor used shaky hands to thread the buttons through and pull his shirt off, adding it to the nest. Markus broad hand pushed him by his chest back down into the pillows. His fingers spread, thumb rubbing back and forth over his left peck. Throwing one leg over, he sat back on his heels slightly looking down at Connor, smiling this wicked thing that he only had when he knew he had more information than his other.  
  
“Now isn’t this so much better?” His warm fingers, trailing a line down Connor's wrist, heading for his right nipple. Markus’ smile grew as he circled the pink synthetic casing that surrounded a series of delicate nerves. One of the better ideas Cyberlife had when designing their droids to ‘make them more human adjacent’. Connor gave a small smile and nodded. Markus rocked forward, leaning in closer that Connor could just make out the Cyberlife logo etched in his irises before they become out of focus. Warm and smooth, his lips brushed across Connor’s, barely touching in feather-soft caresses. His exhales pressing ever so slightly to mold them together. He skin smelled of Linseed oil and Turpentine, mixing with the light scent of detergent off his shirt. He puffed warm breathes into Connor’s mouth. Light and warm, with the patented Cyberlife hint of mint, as his artificial lungs filtered heat from his processors.

His right hand slipped under the back of Connor’s head, taking the weight of his tired frame into his rough palms. At once he pushed from both angles, baring down with his lips and raising Connor’s with his hands. Connors nose throbbed as it knocked against Markus’ before tilting his head and slotting into place, pressed against his cheek. He opened up, testing by pushing his tongue past Markus’ lips into his space. Instantly DNA analysis erupted behind his now-closed eyes.

  
Fresh Artificial Saliva  
Water, glycerin, sorbitol, poloxamer 338, PEG-60, hydrogenated  
castor oil, copovidone, sodium benzoate, carboxymethylcellulose  
(1.19 mL)  
Model: RK-200  
Reported dead 09-05-38

With a deep muffled groan, Markus thrust his tongue forward, rubbing it along Connor’s. Determent licks and prods only to retreat, enticing him to keep pushing his tongue into Markus’ mouth. His prototype synthetic saliva is thick, it coats Connor’s tongue, which he happily laps up. He is all warm breathes and restrained strength, his silver tongue made for more than just impassioned speeches. He closed and opened his lips around Connor’s like he we pulling a new short story off his lips with each pass. His fingers pressed against Connor’s temples, a gentle pressure that eased the ache behind his eyes. Soon the kisses got shorter, quicker, till they stopped altogether, he pulled away only enough to have his features in comfortable focus. His upper body still aligned with Connor’s, guaranteeing he stayed in place.

“Why did you have to research emotions when you clearly have them?” Markus asked, pulling back farther when Connor leaned up for another round of kisses. Flopping back down, Connor let out a frustrated grumble, petulantly refusing to answer. “Don’t glare love.” Markus patted the side of his face making him frown deeper. “Connor, please, you will feel better if you talk about it.” He didn’t want to though, it made his components feel gross and it made him feel like the world was about to fall out. Like a dirty bomb could go off at any moment. He should never have brought it up. Markus just sat there, like a king on his throne, looking down on his peevish subject. “...Connor--”

“I wanted to find an explanation!” the words weren’t so much said as they just exploded forth past his lips. Silence filled the space, for a grueling minute and 26 seconds. Each second felt like a 10-pound weight added to his chest.

“Why do you need to explain them?” Markus asked, in that calming voice. Connor shook his head side to side as if the motion would dislodge something and make his processor work faster.

“Because how else am I going to know?” Connor asked pressing his palms into his eye sockets, he peeked through his fingers as he tugged down on the skin under his eyes. Markus was just looking down at Connor, empty of any emotion.

“Know what?” Connor bit his tongue, looking to the side, avoiding.

His thirum pump gave a kick as the electrical currents around it became stronger. His eyes wouldn’t focus, these white sparks breaking up any image along with obnoxious observational pop-ups. To much information; on the couches fiber contents, the likelihood of rain outside, the dry time on Markus’ latest painting, the age of the dust swirling around his head, Markus stress level, his own stress level.

  
Stress ^ 70%  
Processor Temperature ^ 72°C

  
Connor felt slight friction on his crotch. Centering his vision he noticed Markus starting to shift his weight, directly over his cock.

“M---Markus...” The man just bared down, bending his legs so his shins pined Connor’s knees and ankles wrapped around his calves. He pressed forward, capturing Connor’s hand beside his head, fingers interlaced. Lovingly trapping him between the mattress and his body. Connor could feel where their crotches pressed together, warm bulge solid against his own.

“Why?” Markus asked, rolling his hips in small circles. He was trying to focus his attention, to overwhelm him. It was evil. It was cunning. It was intoxicating. It was working.

“I need to know... I have too” Connor sputtered out, arching his back to raise his hips. The electric tickled behind his eyes built-in pressure. His artificial tears beginning to form, ready to cool down the overheating that was happening in his optical units.  
“Know what?” The rocking stopped and Connor felt the electricity like a vice on his throat. Surely it would have closed up if that was possible.

“Why I feel.” Connor nearly shouted. Tears started to well up on the outer layers of his opticals. He felt like there was steam coming off of them, as his heated body boiled the saline. He squirming under Markus’ warm weight.

  
Stress ^ 72%  
Processor Temperature ^^ 75°C

  
“We are alive.” Markus pressed, tilting his head “We are meant to feel--”

“Too much!” Connor cried, synthetic tears bursting forth, uncontrollable. Everything blurred under water and steam. “I can’t -- It’s--- I can’t do this, I am broken! Everyone else handles it so well, they feel and I feel... There is nothing-- nothing--- but-- but then there is so--- so much. Broken. I can’t--- I shut down. It’s too---”

His voice died out, washed away in pathetic whimpers. Why did nothing make sense? Didn’t he understand anything? Was he defective? Broken? He thought he would be happy as a deviant. Amanda was right, he needed her, he needed cyberlife, it was clear. Easy, he had a mission. He was good on missions. Always accomplished them. He was foolish to think that he could be anything more than a machine. He was deluded into thinking that he could imitate man. Markus would see it soon too. He would grow bored and leave him. Who would ever want to stay beside a machine? If he wasn't feeling completely empty, his processors were stuff full of input, to the point of overheating. He shut down over pointless things. That wasn't life, that was a machine deteriorating. He thought he could be a man, be with Markus, be with Hank, be free. Now he was going to lose it all.

  
Stress ^^^ 94%  
Critical Levels Reached: Contact Cyberlife

Markus leaned in, pressing kisses along the scattered moles. His hands cupped Connor’s jaw, cradling, brushing tears away.

“Shh... It’s okay.” He whispered into Connor’s ear, “You’re not broken. Everything’s okay.” Connor felt his voice box glitch and pop with static in his reply, choking on another sob. His hands felt numb again. Tears rolled down his cheeks between static whines, he was being so loud. Too loud. Too much. Bring up his hands, Connor sunk his teeth into the meat of his palms. Pressing down, forcing feeling back into the synthetic flesh, muffling his noises.

“Hey, hey it’s okay,” Markus whispered, clasping Connor’s hands pulling them away from his face. ”None of that. Don’t hide. Just feel” he said, stroking softly at the indents, barely crazing the tiny valleys Connor’s canines had made. It hurt. His hands. His neck. His lungs. Everything hurt so much.

“You need to breathe.” He ordered and Connor gasped, he felt his stomach cramp at the force with which air left his artificial lungs. His lungs rattled as he inhaled the cool air of the attic. “That’s it, love,” Markus egged on. his lips brushing across Connor’s heated cheekbones, leaving open-mouthed kisses and breathes across the spotted skin. With each shaky inhale Connor tightened his grip on Markus’ hands, fingers threaded together. “Keep breathing. Nice and deep”.

  
Stress v 90%  
Critical Levels Reached: Contact Cyberlife  
Processor Temperature vvv 55°C

  
“That’s good. You are doing so good.” Markus kept repeating, pressing soft lips across Connor’s LED, red and hot and whirling chaotically. He laid his body out, pressing the lines of his chest along Connor’s, encasing him in warm. Markus’ started to match his breathing, setting pass with deep even breathes in and loud exhales from his nose, tickling the hairs at Connor’s temples. 7 minutes and 45 seconds is what it took Connor to slow his crying, tears still trapped in the corner but not rolling down his cheeks.  
  
“Will you try something for me, love?” Markus asked brushing Connor’s sweaty bangs out of the way. Connor nodded, unable to open his mouth or eyes. “No more using words. Don’t describe anything. Just feel.” It was whispered across his lips, tickling, before he was bared down upon. It felt like Markus was trying to consume him, his teeth biting and pulling softly at Connor’s dried lip. In contrast, his stubble scratched Connor’s jaw, turning the skin pink. The scrapping of leather again metal, along with the tugging at his waist got his to shift, helping to remove his belt. The two sets of hands made quick work of the belt, throwing it aside with a clatter. “Feel with me.”

Markus slides down, peppering kiss along Connor's neck, nipping at his Adam apple. He blew are into the dip of this collar, laying a slow lick up the column. Connor shivered as cold air rolled over his wet skin. A sudden sharp pain caused from his neck as Markus bit down, surely hard enough to bruise. He apologized by sucking on the mark, leaving force kiss and wide swaths with his tongue. Content with the discoloration forming he moved to a new spot and repeated the process. Connor tipped his head back, moaning, creating a vibration that Markus loved, kissing harder.

Connor’s world started to shrink, his sensor tuning to Markus alone. Hearing nothing but the wet sound of Markus’ tongue against his neck. Feeling nothing but the suction of lips against his neck. Hearing Markus’ approving groans in response. Feeling the therium in his body fill his penis, tightly confined in his jeans. He pulled his knees wider, allowing room for Markus to slot in closer. He returned the favor by bringing one wide and toned thigh up against Connor’s bulge. Connor rolled his hips up off the mattress, closing his legs slightly, to hump that magnificent thigh.

Markus chuckled in between bites, rolling his hips in response. We loosened his grip with one hand, pulling away, and Connor already missed the feel of it. It brushed down his arm, tickling the sensitive skin of his armpit before hitting the goal. With a sudden and vicious grip, Markus rolled a pink nipple between his fingers. He rolled the hardening nub between his thumb and fingers, twisting it left and right. Each twist built up a pressure that he would then dissipate by letting go and rubbing with a single finger in circles. Playing with it like it was a button as if it was a switch to Connor’s cock. It grew harder and he humped harder and moaned louder.

Kissing lower he began to give equal attention to the other nipple. He flicked the tip of his tongue across it, circling it before blowing cold air against it. With a whine, Connor found he had cupped Markus by the back of the head. He pushed his face down while pressing his chest up, impatiently insisting on more attention. Something Markus was more than happy to give with a chuckle that vibrated against the nub. “How does it feel love?” He asked between kisses. Connor's face pinched, trying to think of something to say when he was already occupied.

“It... It feels--- Ahh.” he nearly wailed as Markus bit down on the nub, all teeth, and a slight twist. Connor twisted away but Markus chased him with little licks and kiss. “No words Connor.” He chastised. Connor’s chest heaved as he breathed great gulps of air. Every time his chest expanded Markus reward him with a kiss to each nipple. Connor felt as if he was melting, his processors let thought float away like smoke as his body became loose and moldable like clay.

The mattress shifted as Markus started to get up. Connor looked up, feeling cold, eyes wide as the man stood. He started to sit up to follow him before a strong hand just pushed him back down, slightly bouncing against the bed. Laying back, he just watched. He watched as Markus grabbed the back of his shirt, between his shoulder blades, and pulled it off over his head. His chest widened as the bottom of his shirt slowly revealed more skin. As his shoulder rose, his abs stretched. The valley between each muscle deepening as they flexed. The tops of his jeans slipped a little lower as they became baggie across his flat stomach. They teased what they hid with a trail of dark hair, lining his pelvis, that snuck under fly of his jeans. Connor would be happy if for the rest of his life all he had to do was bless that pelvis with his lips.

He smiled down as he tossed the shirt to the side, he knew how the little show always affects Connor. He also knew how it made himself feel when he indulged the detective's tendency to analyze. His smile turned wicked as his hand rubbed his own chest, twisting to provide an appealing curve for viewing. When his hands reached his jeans he hooked his thumb through the belt loops pulling them lower on his pelvis. Connor watched as more hair was revealed and could feel the rumble, near his therium pump, with the force of his groan.

“So you are feeling good,” Markus replied conversationally, pretending to be wholly unaffected by the situation. Though the prominent bulge in the front of his pants betrayed his true feelings. “I’m glad, let's see if we can make you feel better.” With a flick of the wrist, he unfastened his jeans, letting them fall to the floor along with his underwear. Connor swallowed the lump that formed in his throat at this beautiful man. Some designer at Cyberlife was very dedicated to their work. His cock was long, nestled into a well-groomed nest of curly pubes, with a large flushed red tip that tilted ever so slightly to the left. He had prominent veins, especially the large one along the underside that begged to be licked.

Frustratingly he just stood there, gentle fisting his hand over his own cock, looking down at Connors prone figure. He seemed content to jerk himself while just watching his bedmate, neck bitten and bruised, all flushed and heaving great breathes. Connor whined, a hand reaching out, begging to touch. “Oh, are you feeling lonely now love?” He teased, just slowly fisting himself not even attempting to come closer. Connor whined louder, the electricity around his throat making the sound pop and crackle. Finally, Markus took mercy, releasing his cock as he bent forward, hooking his hand into the hem of Connor’s pants and underwear. With a sudden squeak Connor got pulled slightly down the mattress as, with one strong yank, Marku removed him of his clothing.  
  
Surprised, Connor quickly crossed his hands over his crotch, shielding his erection from the cold air and hot stare Markus was pinning him with. Markus laughed as he gently pulled Connor’s hands away. “No reason to be embarrassed.” He calmed his laughter as he crawled up the bed, closer. “You are beautiful.” He whispered blowing his warm breath across Connor’s tip. Hands pinned beside his hips Connor was on display, his bright pink cock standing at attention, giving a twitch with every breath against the sensitive skin. The world blurred around the edges as Connor watched Markus kiss the vein along the underside of his erection.

He felt the electrical currents start to collect around his pelvis. As Markus teased him with kitten licks across the head, his stubbled chin gently scratched along his base and balls. Then with great urgency, Markus wrapped his lips around him, reaching for the base. Connor threw his head back and nearly screamed at the sudden warm wetness engulfing him. This man truly wanted to devour him.

He sobbed, twitching his him up as Markus sucked the whole of his penis, his tongue stubbing at the slit on his head. When he started to bob up and down, dragging his lips, Connor feared he would pop off an arm with how hard he tried to liberate his hands from their restraints. Markus didn’t let go. However, he also didn’t stop him when Connor started to thrust his hips up. He just relaxed his throat and welcomed Connor’s harsh thrusts, rumbling happily. Connor growled as he chased the building feeling at the base of his sex. He was getting close to cumming.

When Markus pulled off, to lick and tease his ball Connor could do nothing more than let out a series of pitiful sounding cries. His hips becoming uncontrollable as they thrust his cock into the cold air. “Don’t feel sad, love. We are only just starting” Markus said, locking eyes with Connor, before rolling one of his balls along with his tongue. “So--- so mean.” Connor gritted out trying to regain control of his humping hips. “Don't’ be childish.” He admonished, giving a sharp quick slap to Connor’s thigh.

Finding his chance, Connor threw his free hand around the back of Markus’ head, pressing his tip against the man’s lips. Infuriatingly, the man refused to open up, leaving Connor to just thrust his cock against his course cheeks. His thigh received another sharp slap for that. The sharp biting feeling made his erection twitch, precum starting to form at the tip. Markus sat up with another “Childish.” huffing past his lips.

In retaliation Markus grabbed Connor’s ankles, pushing his legs to his shoulders, bending him in half. Connor felt exposed, Markus' face was level with his cock and anus. Like with everything else he seemed content to take his sweet time and just examine him, stupid artists. Connor felt the pressure of his chest being tilted up, the slight pinch in his throat and he had to curl it more to look back at Markus. Framed between his wide open legs, the man pressed a series of kisses along the back of his thighs.

Precum dribbled onto his stomach as he watched Markus, looming over him, gently nibbled at the back of his knees. The feeling of teeth tickled and sent electric shivers straight to his pleasure center. Connor hopped to egg him on with small pleading gasps. Markus simple just reached down with one hand, rubbing two fingers across his lips. “If you want it so bad,” He spoke into the back of his knee “you’re going to have to show me how you want to feel.” He bit the tender skin to punctuate his point. Connor let out a hot breath from his mouth, one that Markus replaced with his two fingers. As quickly as they analysis popped up, Connor deleted them, just wanting to enjoy the feel of course finger pads against his tongue.

Connor gasped at the taste, the subtle salt of Markus’ skin mixed with the deep tangy musk from his cock. Connor licked them clean of any drying precum, rumbling happily as he shoved his tongue between both digits. He started to bob his head up and down, imagining wrapping his mouth around Markus’ cock. He happily fellated the man's fingers as if he could make him come through his hand. Twirling his tongue teasingly, a third finger pressed in the join the fun. “When you are like this, I begin to think you would be happy to spend the rest of your life just servicing me.” Markus sounded slightly in awe as he started to thrust his fingers into Connor waiting mouth.

“Would you want that love? To be my cockwarmer? Spend your days besides my desk, keeping me within your warm and wet mouth?” His voice sounded far too eloquent for such filthy words. Connor started to envision himself on his knees. Naked, happily deep throating ‘the leader’ as he gave one of his impassioned speeches. He started to nod enthusiastically, it all sounded beautiful simply wonderful. “Now don’t lie darling. You love your job too much and I wouldn’t want to deprive the DPD of their star detective.” He slipped his fingers out, Connor whining at the empty feeling they left.  
  
Markus leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Connors sweat-matted hair. “But maybe on a special occasion,” He went on, pulling a bottle of lube that was stored in the table drawer beside the couch. He popped the top and smeared in a dollop among Connor’s saliva. “I can sneak you under my desk for the day.” He teased one of his long slick finger circling Connor’s entrance. The suggestion went right to his erection and as he gasped he was assaulted by the feeling of a single finger entering him.

Markus’ medical prowess showed as he quickly and efficiently found that bundle of nerves deep in Connor. Four strokes and he slammed into it full force, knocking the air out of Connor’s lungs. Having then found his mark, he opted to tease at it, randomizing how many thrusts he did before hitting it again. Thrust, thrust, hit, thrust, hit, thrust, thrust, thrust, thrust, thrust, hit, thrust, thrust, hit, on and on me went teasing the man below him. With each hit Connor would let out a great gasp, forgetting to keep breathing every time. “You got to breathe Connor.” Markus would always remind, stopping his thrusts. He waited until Connor regained breathe, just in time to abuse his hole all over again.

Each stroke went right to Connor’s dick, it twitches uselessly, dribbling pre-come all over his stomach. It was thick and warm but cool quickly against his abs. The pressure built, the electricity in his pelvis compressing into a tight ball ready to explode. He felt his face pinch as he started to rock his hips back onto those three assaulting digits. Trying to knock them against that button inside that sent jolts right to his erection. Each time he succeeded he would moan as that ball of pressure coiled tighter.

He was going to cum. He wanted to cum. He wanted it so bad. “I’m gonna-- gonna.” he started to say. Suddenly Markus let Connor’s legs drop the mattress as he completely stopped touching him altogether. His eyes popped open as he breathed in so fast it made his cock wag. Stunned into silence stuttering breathes, Connor just panted on top of the sweaty blankets, the bright flashes going crazy behind his lids every time he blinked. His cock ached. He felt so empty and tight. One giant exposed nerve ready to be abused. “N--No.” He weakly protested, tears starting to form in the corner of his eyes.

Ignoring the man's watery eyes, Markus rolled Connor on his side, rubbing the tense muscles between his shoulder blades. Warmth settled in behind him, a tight column of muscle pressed into his back. He could feel everything, hard nubs of nipples grazing his shoulder blades, rippling abs that flexed as strong hips rub a hot rod of flesh between his cheeks. Markus said nothing as he just breathed his minty breath across Connor’s cheek. One arm came from under him, clasping tight around his chest and beginning to torment and already abused nipple. Forced to look at the stained glass window Connor rerouted his processing energy to his nerve endings.

Twists felt sharper, thrust hotter and everything felt like a pleasurable shock to every nerve touched. He was left hot and warm and unable to tell where his body stopped and Markus’ started. Looking down he saw the bright white of a plastic hand again his white peck. With it, he would feel both the fingers on his nipple but the nipple on his fingers, the grind of cock against his ass but the feeling of an ass grinding against his front.  
  
With one sharp tug, his left leg raised up into the air, leaving his hole and cock exposed. Fully on display to the rest of the room, that hand behind his knee being a vice, locking him into such an exposing pose. Markus brushed light kisses along his hickies as his tip nudged at Connor’s displayed hole. Connor felt the catch along his rim as Markus gave a slightly harsh thrust. His own tip dribbled as a phantom hole kissed the head. Done with feeling empty, Connor thrust his hips backward, trying to push the erection in. He tried again when it didn’t work, letting out a frustrated whine.  
  
“Please.” He gasped out trying to thrust again but only succeeded in humped along the top Markus’ cock. Markus simply shushed him, gliding his fingers down his inner thigh, tickling the skin. He stopped to rub at the sensitive interaction between pelvis and thigh before continuing onto his own cock. He continued to kiss and shush quietly in Connor's ear as he fumbled to squirt a generous amount of lube across his cock. Connor shoved his face into the blankets, inhaling great breathes of lavender detergent and sweat, even a hint of the cologne Hank used, it had a tendency to cling to everything in the house.

His thoughts came to a shuttering stop though as Markus started to feed the head of his cock into Connor’s anus. His optical units started to become static and shaky, scan bars popping in and out of existence as he lost total control of them. One arm clawed at the sheets, while the other clamped down on the hand still tormenting his chest. Markus continued a slowly gentle assault, thrusting in small circles. A little in a little out then back in ever so slightly more, he repeated this until fully seated inside Connor. He could feel Markus’s heartbeat through his cock as it pulsed against his prostate. Connor held his breath, there didn’t feel like there is room for both air and Markus’ throbbing dick.

His own erection felt enveloped in a hot vice, his entire being was being pressed from all angles. With pathetic whimpers he started to twitch, unsure where he wanted to go, he humped back and forth between the phantom grip on his cock and the piercing heat of Markus’ cock. “How are you feeling now love?” Markus groaned, right into his ear, defining the squeaking springs of the mattress. He didn’t even give Connor time to respond before pulling all the way and then thrusting home, slamming right into Connor’s prostate.

A silent scream ripped through Connor's throat as the sudden force left him in a puddle. Left him to be prey to Markus’ ravaging hips. He was cruel and fast and relentlessly pounded forward. Connor felt every nerve go haywire as his pose, leg still thrown in the air, guaranteed that all he could do was lay there and take it. Markus was savage, setting a harsh tempo that his Connor prostate quickly and cruelly. His balls slapped against Connor’s taint, the wet noise filling his ears, only interrupted by the harsh grunts Markus made between bites at his shoulder.

He started the meet Markus’ thrusts as the man released his chest and leg, instead intertwining his fingers with Connor’s. Both hands clasped and crossed against his chest, as Markus hugged him close. Connor looked down at their interlaced hands, placing a kiss against them as he noticed just beyond his cock, hot and heavy bouncing up and down with the force of Markus’ thrust. The image made him moans loudly as nothing dribble of precum leaked out onto the sheets.

“Do you remember our first time, love?” Markus asked, hugging his chest tighter into Connor’s back. His thrusting hips slowing to just a subtle roll side to side. Connor’s voice box gurgled as he squeezed Markus’ hand tighter, pressing it harder to his lips. Kissing it like it would be an on switch for Markus’ to start moving again. “On this very couch, my body pressing you into the back of it. I had you all open, leg thrown in the air just like this, unable to close them.” His voice sounded foreign, animal and deep. “I started to finger you...” Connor gasped “you were so sweet and responsive.” A single forceful thrust punctuating his statement. “Your gasps were so lovely and your bitten lips were begging to be devoured.” He groaned into the nape of Connor’s neck, tickling the hairs there.

“Then all of a sudden you turned off your nerve sensors.” Markus froze at that, refusing to move his hands, hips, even stopping his artificial breathe so it no longer caressed Connor’s skin. As his processor locked up, all Connor could do was whimper, shaking and kissing that hand, locking it in a vice grip. He needs more. He felt as if he would die without more. He started to thrust his hips, trying to create friction as he drove himself onto Markus’ cock.

“You became so open and relaxed,” he nibbled on the lobe of Connor’s ear, pulling it with his teeth. “But you weren’t really there, you ran, left me and went off alone.” his thighs weaved around his hips and legs, clamping down on his hips, forcing him to stop moving. Connor groaned, bitting back his angry words at being forced to sit still. “Remember?” Of course, he remembered. “I had to coax you back, ask you if you wanted it. Begged you to come back. Have you beg me to continue.”

“Pl.. please.” Connor sobbed out, pressing his forehead into the pillow, twisting trying to break free and move. It was too much but never enough.

“Shh... shh. No words love.” Markus reminded giving one deep roll. “Tell me how you feel.” Frustrated, Connor squirmed and kicked Markus’ legs away, they fell back releasing his hips. Free to move he started to plunge himself back and forth, taking what he needed. Markus’ hot cock battered his prostate in the most amazing way. He started to thrust his whole body, using the moment to take even more. He could feel the rumble of Markus’ chest against his back as the man just chuckled, more than happy to be used.

“I-- I... ahhh... I feel--” It felt like a billion dialogue pop-ups endlessly bombarded him their slightly translucent boxers blotting out his vision.

  
You’re the only one I’ve ever loved. Love burns like a thousand suns.  
You had me at hello. Good things come to those who wait. They say  
when you meet the love of your life, time stops, and that’s true. It was  
meant to be. What doesn’t kill me will make me stronger. All’s fair in love and war. The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love, and be loved in return. It’s  
darkest before the dawn. Be careful what you wish  
For. I can kiss away the pain.  
There is no greater power than love. Love keeps us from  
the beasts. My heart aches like  
The wilting of a flower.  
shut your mouth and run me like a river.

  
“No,” Markus whispered low, voice steeled into a palpable force. “None... of that. No words... just sounds.”

Abruptly, Connor found his entire front pressed into the mattress, cock trapped between his stomach and soft blankets. Markus chest baring down, using gravity to completely cover his body. With a great squeak, the springs bounced as Markus pulled himself up then let gravity pull him back down. Connor shrieked, muffled in the fuzzy blanket his face was crushed into. He humped the fabric as the fibers brushed the underside of his head. Markus pinned his legs again and raised up, no longer pressed against Connor's back. The air between them felt heated through, making feel just as trapped as before.

He felt full. Completely stuffed full, not only with Markus’ ravaging cock but his thirum pump felt full. His processor felt overloaded with what he assumed was emotions. Random sparks of feeling that left him wanting to cry, singing, scream and laugh his praises for the cock battering his prostate. The hot ball at the base of his cock became brighter, connected directly to his prostate. He felt as if he would never be the same again. As if he all he had to feel was right here at the edge of Markus’ cock head. Happiness was only to be found at the warm wave of Markus’ orgasm. As if his every action led him to this moment. His sole purpose for deviating was to be a pleasure toy for himself and Markus.

“Groan.” It was quiet, just barely a decibel loud command made by Markus’ audio processor.

Connor, he heard it. Electricity rushed through his core, sparking around his therium pump. His vision glitched to pure white, blinding him with light. Groaning, full of static pops, Connor collapsed, muscles lost their ability to tighten and his arms feel away, head lolling back, hanging to the side exposing his neck. Markus took the opening, pressing his face to nip at the relaxed muscles. It was all too much. It was becoming too much and Connor was happy. He loved this feeling of being overwhelmed, of losing control, leaving everything for Markus to care for.

The thrusting became sporadic, the pace lost to simple strong jabs right to his center. Markus’ voice crackled with electricity, he was close to coming. The thought filled Connor’s mind

  
Urgent task:  
Make Markus cum

  
Connor clamped down his muscles, hazily trying to pulse them in time with Markus’ thrusts forward. Markus let out a guttural moan, his teeth biting down on his lips as his face became pinched. He upped his eyes, refusing to close them again as he gave a brutal thrust that banged the back of the couch against the wall. The sound of Connor’s wail was so satisfying he did it again, and again, and again and again. On the last one, he gains a sudden twist upwards, catching his tip against Connor’s prostate with such force he dragged hip right up off the couch. “Come.”

Connor did. The pressure burst. Electricity escaping from his core. Exploding across every part of his body. Rippling through him. Leaving every nerve happily twitching. His toes curled and flexed. He lost complete control of his left leg as is twitched. He tried to cry Markus’ name but his tongue felt numb as all he could for was let out a silent scream that melted into this gasping breathe. His cock spurts hot cum right into the blanket, completely untouched. He laid in it uncaring as Markus kept thrusting. His nerves were on fire, overexposed and sensitive. Markus followed quickly though, thrusting home and emptying everything into Connor satiated body.

With great gasps, he pulled out, making Connor twitch. He flopped down onto his side and regained his breath. They laid there simply breathing for 2 minutes 24 seconds. “How are you feeling?” Markus finally asked, brushing the wet curls out of Connor’s eyes. Connor opened one brown eye to look at the man. “Lightheaded,” he said. Markus let out a great laugh, throwing his arm around Connor and bringing him close for a kiss. Soft, gentle and delicate, trying not to overwhelm him.

  
Stress vvv 2%

“We should sleep,” Markus whispered into the space between their lips. Connor couldn’t agree more. Turn to his side, he wrapped his arms around Markus, tucking the man’s head under his. “Thank you.” He said brushing tingly fingers along the shell of his ear. Markus’ arms squeezed tighter, hugging harder. “Don’t worry love, we all feel overwhelmed.” He said kissing under Connor’s chin. With a smile, Connor begins the process of heading into sleep mode. As his optical units shut down his tasks popped up one last time.

  
Urgent task:  
~~Talk with Markus~~  
~~Make sure Markus charges~~

~~Make Markus Cum~~

Optional task:  
~~Understand deviancy~~

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my friend for putting up with my four days of writing and offered to help edit. What else are friends good for if they won't read your gratuitous porn?


End file.
